Conversations
by CharmedQuill
Summary: Oneshots. Conversations between various characters of the Harry Potter universe.
1. Harry and Arthur

Harry stepped lightly down the stairs, the squeaking steps masked by the Burrow creaking in the warm night breeze. He had just awoken, a silent scream clawing his throat, as he was thrown out of the grip of a nightmare. Ever since the final battle, he had been plagued by nightmares, struggling to get more than a few hours each night. The days were just as hard; with Ron and Hermione it was easy—they knew him, understood him without him having to say a word. Attempting to talk to Mrs Weasley and George was impossible—he had spent so long talking about horcruxes or survival or not talking at all, he now struggled to connect with people at all. Ginny was helping—slowly—she never pushed for more than light hearted conversation. He could tell however, that she was becoming more concerned and frustrated with his inability to open up about the war.

Gliding down the last few steps, Harry wearily pushed open the kitchen door, blinking in surprise. Sitting at the table, illuminated by a single candle, was Mr Weasley, clad in his ragged dressing gown. Mr Weasley looked up at his entrance, his grim countenance turning concerned at Harry's arrival.

'Tea, Harry?' Mr Weasley offered, smiling gently as he waved his wand, prompting a steaming teapot to float off the stove. The tea cascaded into two mugs, which floated down to land before Mr Weasley and the seat across from him. Mr Weasley gestured to the seat, prompting Harry to move from the doorway.

Feeling somewhat trapped, Harry sat, grasping his tea with white-knuckled fingers.

'Having trouble sleeping, Harry?' Mr Weasley asked, his voice soft and concerned but hitting Harry far harder than he would like.

'It's nothing, Mr Weasley,' Harry replied, taking a quick sip.

'Harry…' Mr Weasley started, before pausing, looking unsure on what he should say next. 'I know why I'm down here, and it's certainly not because I'm having a good night's sleep.'

Harry averted his eyes, not excited for where this conversation was headed. Mr Weasley followed the movement, and perhaps sensing his unwillingness, scrambled for another topic to pursue. His eyes alighted on the Hogwarts letters stacked on the kitchen counter, he quickly changed tack.

'So, Harry, what are your plans for the year?' he asked, not making it easier for Harry in the slightest. 'I know Ron hasn't decided whether he's going back to Hogwarts yet.'

Harry, his mouth dry, stared at the flickering candlelight, trying to figure out how to respond. _Perhaps… perhaps I could talk a little_ , Harry thought, _this is Mr Weasley, maybe he could help._

Taking a steadying breath, Harry looked at Mr Weasley before responding. 'I never really thought about after, you know?' Harry stared into the earthenware mug, trying to ignore the burning in his cheeks. 'I never let myself really.'

Mr Weasley lifted his own mug to his lips and took a sip, not reacting to Harry's words but waiting to see if that was all. When Harry remained silent under his contemplative gaze, the closed in, weary, look on his face smoothed out into familiar laughter lines, seen far too little since the war had come into their lives.

'I don't think that's necessarily a bad thing, Harry,' Mr Weasley chuckled, his fingers playing with the chipped edges of his cup.

Harry's eyes shot to Mr Weasley, feeling irritated his worries were being laughed away. His mouth opened for a sharp retort, but he struggled to find anything to say in response to the fond look Mr Weasley was giving him.

'Every year you came to us, a skinny little thing, polite as anything, every year just a bit more angry, sad, afraid…' Arthur sighed, the creases on his face becoming prominent once again. Harry said nothing, momentarily dumbstruck by the new direction of the conversation.

'One of my biggest regrets is not being there for you when you needed it most, and I don't think Molly or I will ever forget that,' Mr Weasley said, taking off his glasses and polishing them with the frayed edges of his dressing gown.

'Mr Weasley, don't say that' Harry said, shaking his head furiously, 'you can't… you were there for me, you let me come every summer, it was fine.'

Mr Weasley cut across him, laying a hand on his arm, and signalling for him to stay quiet.

'Harry,' Mr Weasley said firmly, 'let me finish this, okay?'

Harry nodded slowly, noticing the older man's face was set in tense lines and his hands had started playing with edges of the table.

Mr Weasley let out a long breath, easing the tension from his body.

'We failed you,' Mr Weasley said, 'We had absolutely no idea how to help you, and every way we tried, well, it never really worked out in the end. Every year you came to us, you became a part of our family more and more but as time went on…' Arthur paused for a moment, his eyes resting on Harry's pink face.

'Each year you came to us, we were terrified that one of those years would be the last time,' Arthur said shakily, his voice growing tight, 'And we had no clue how to deal with that.'

'So we tried our best to make the Burrow your home, to make sure that no matter what happened, you would always be welcome with us,' Mr Weasley finished.

'You did,' Harry blurted, before clearing his throat and returning Mr Weasley's gaze.

'I… it meant a lot to me that you would do that, and I, well, next to Hogwarts, I always thought of coming here as coming home you know, and you guys as well, as my family,' Harry spoke haltingly.

With a sigh, Mr Weasley grasped Harry's shoulder. 'That's all we ever wanted. So please Harry, let me help you now. We all fought the same war as you. You're not alone.'

Harry chest felt remarkably heavy, but much lighter at the same time. Perhaps tomorrow, he could come to breakfast and look Mrs Weasley or George in the eye. And as he ghosted back up the stairs after sharing a brief hug with Mr Weasley, maybe, he thought, he could start moving forward again.


	2. Harry and Ron

Pinpricks of light pierced the night sky, a soft breeze swaying through the orchard, the rickety, crooked Burrow glowing with light. Two men, barely graduated from boyhood, lay at the edges of the windowlight sharing no words, only a bottle of firewhisky.

Harry Potter, not yet eighteen and widely hailed hero of the battle of Hogwarts, coughed and spluttered his way through another ambitious gulping of the drink. Ron Weasley, his best friend of seven years, grinned and slapped Harry's back before taking back the bottle for his own attempt. Seconds later, Harry heard the rather expected sounds of his friend choking down his own drink to not much success.

'Why are we doing this again?' Harry rasped through his burning throat, a hand unsuccessfully trying to rub the pain away.

'Weasley tradition of course,' Ron said, his eyes bright with drunken fervour. 'What more reason do you need?'

'It's a bloody stupid tradition,' Harry replied, still rubbing his painful throat, 'If I ever needed proof you Weasleys are insane, this would be it.'

'Careful there Potter, watch my sister doesn't hear you say that,' warned Ron, as he tentatively took another sip of the firewhisky.

'Bugger off git,' Harry replied though there was no real heat in his words.

'Actually, you should say that around her, I think I'd get a kick out of Ginny hexing the daylights out of you,' Ron sniggered as he passed the bottle back to Harry.

'Who in your family decided that the best way to celebrate their coming of age was to drink a whole bottle of firewhisky as fast as possible,' Harry grumbled as he eyed the half full bottle with distaste.

Ron watched Harry take another swallow before saying 'I think it was Uncle Bilius, you remember the uncle I told you about at the wedding?' Ron paused as he waited for Harry to nod his assent. 'Well, I think he got Bill to do it on his seventeenth, and Bill sort of took it from there for the rest of us. He took Charlie out on his seventeenth, he got Percy when we went over to Egypt after second year, the twins he did at Grimmauld Place while Mum was working for the Order.'

'Your mum's going to tear into us in the morning,' Harry said morosely, as he quickly gulped down the last of the firewhisky before doubling over, spluttering, tears in his eyes.

'Nah, we'll be fine, Bill will fix us up with some hangover potions or something. If we have to I reckon we can get Bill to take us to Shell Cottage for the day.' Ron lay back, his lanky frame stretched out on the grass.

Harry, similarly stretched out, felt dozy, his eyelids drawn together. Ron's next words however, were like another shot of firewhisky, boiling his insides.

'So, what's going on with you and Ginny?'

The word's hung in the air between them, the night silent apart from the rustlings of leaves and creaking of branches.

Harry was slow to answer; he could not help but remember the Ron's reaction to finding Harry and Ginny together on his birthday almost a year ago.

'Why do you want to know?' Harry replied cautiously, slightly wary of what a drunk Ron might say. 'We've never really discussed this before-'

Ron looked at Harry, his eyes glazed.

'I mean it's like me and Hermione yeah, it's not just y'know…' Ron trailed off, apparently thinking he'd said enough for Harry to understand him.

Harry, however, was completely lost.

'I have no idea what you're trying to say Ron.'

Harry's reply seemed to sober Ron slightly. He looked away, fidgeting with his sleeve.

'It's serious, isn't it? I mean you guys are together for good?' Ron mumbled, clearly uncomfortable.

Harry felt the same, thoroughly wishing this conversation would end. His hands fidgeting with the grass, Harry carefully weighed his response.

'I think it is, yeah,' Harry replied, not wishing to reveal how he loved her pale skin, contrasted by speckles of freckles; her utter refusal to ever lose on the quidditch pitch; the way she could joke, or tease, or look at him and suddenly, he'd feel full to bursting with happiness.

Caught up in his daydreams, Harry completely missed Ron's reply, only catching the last couple of words. 'What was that Ron?' Harry asked, hoping it would be the end of it.

Ron looked at him, uncharacteristically sober. 'I said that's all I needed to know.'

Harry grinned back, glad that the conversation was over for the foreseeable future and that Ron accepted his and Ginny's relationship. Feeling like Ron deserved some payback for bringing it up, his grin turned mischievous.

'You know, your Mum's not the one we need to worry about. Hermione is back tomorrow.'

'Oh, bloody hell!'


	3. Sirius and James

Sirius lounged alone, reclining on the upholstered leather benches of the Hogwarts Express. He should have been comfortably resting, but Sirius was squirming. His hands fidgeted with the sleeve of his robes as he gazed out the window at the grey blur of London. Try as he might, Sirius could not resist the temptation to flick his eyes to the sliding door, every time the staccato of students passing by reached his ears.

Deep in his gut, Sirius could feel the gnawing loneliness chew at his insides. Usually only limited to the summer holidays, his solitude had begun early this year. In fact, for the first time, he was almost looking forward to getting home. At least there, life was simple for him—his relationship with his family was filled with hate from both sides. Here at school—he simply didn't know anymore.

Not one-week past, in a moment of spite, hate, and stupidity, he had told Severus Snape how to enter the secret tunnel that ended at the Shrieking Shack—and an enraged werewolf. The only thing that had saved Snape from death or lycanthropy had been James Potter, who had risked himself to save Snape and Sirius from his stupid decision.

Since that night, the distance between the friends had been yawning. In one night, Sirius had fractured a friendship that had lasted five years, through pranks and girls, animagus and werewolves. The silence in the dormitory had been unbearable—he had tried to apologize, but Remus hadn't said a word. He had just looked at Sirius, his eyes cold and mouth furious, and Sirius had let him go, feeling his chest twist painfully.

James had been nearly as bad. After they had seen Dumbledore that night, he had laid into Sirius, angrier than Sirius had ever seen him.

'What the bloody hell were you thinking?' he had shouted, hands clenched by his sides, his voice echoing down the empty stone halls. James had been nearly out of control, his face showing betrayal and something more, something Sirius hadn't been able to pinpoint then.

Sirius had no answer then, he wasn't sure he had an answer now. He had wanted Snape hurt—he hated him, still hated him, and at the time he hadn't given a thought to Remus.

Peter hadn't known what to do, but had followed James and Remus' lead, ignoring him in class and their dormitory, sitting on the opposite side of the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall.

Sirius had been living in a state of depression ever since. He sat alone, ate alone, and went to sleep alone. Other members of their house had tried to help, concerned about the split, but he had brushed them off. He needed to fix this but he wouldn't accept anyone's help.

Problem was, Sirius had no clue how to fix this. He had never hurt a person he hadn't meant to hurt before. Now, he had hurt his closest friends, hell, practically his family. _Hopefully, the summer break can fix it,_ Sirius thought, as the train sidled into King's Cross Station, the squeals of welcome washing over him.

Sirius slowly made his way to his feet, suddenly reluctant to leave, reaching for his trunk in the overhead storage. Before he could drag it down however, the compartment door slid open, framing a James Potter absent of his usual exuberance. At the sight of him, Sirius felt his stomach jump into his throat, panicked yet happy. For a moment, James stood, staring at Sirius, his expression torn.

'Sirius—' James started, before looking away as he cleared his throat. 'I don't know where we go from here… but I'm still your friend, alright?' He glanced at Sirius before looking out the window. 'If you need help, come to me. With the way things are right now… well, I reckon your house might not be the safest place to be,' he finished.

Sirius swallowed the lump in his throat, furiously blinking. 'Thanks mate,' he said. Somehow those words seemed too small for how much this meant to Sirius.

James hesitated, before adding, 'Remus had some words to say—he said this had been coming for years, we'd been going too far for a while—I reckon he was right.' Sirius watched James struggle to continue, his face twisted in regret. 'I deserve some of the blame as well.'

Sirius laughed bitterly, a grim smile on his face. 'I don't think you can take the credit for this one James, you saved the git,' Sirius said.

James nodded in understanding or acceptance, Sirius wasn't sure. 'Maybe not this time, but what we've been doing… Sirius I could've hurt someone by accident or on purpose, I don't know… but I don't want that,' James finished, his face miserable.

Sirius, his throat tight, only nodded in reply, scared that this was the moment James cut him loose.

'I guess it's time for us to grow up a bit,' James said with a half-smile.

'So, we're still friends,' Sirius blurted out, slightly in shock.

James looked shocked himself, taken aback by Sirius' reply. 'Course we are,' James replied, ruffling his messy hair. 'I'm not giving up on you just yet mate,' James added awkwardly as Sirius looked away, his eyes burning.

'Right, right, that's good then,' Sirius said shakily, composing himself.

James stood still for another moment before crossing to Sirius and giving him a quick hug, both boys pounding each other on the back. After a second, they released, their eyes not meeting.

'Well, I guess I better be off then,' James said, backing towards the door.

'Have a good summer mate,' Sirius said, reaching for his trunk.

'I'll owl you soon,' James said, and he was gone.

Sirius breathed out shakily, releasing the fear, panic, and sadness that had been infecting him for the last week. Wiping his eyes roughly, he hefted his trunk, ready to depart the Hogwarts Express.

'Damn,' he said under his breath. Sirius really didn't want to go home after all.


	4. Harry and Ginny

'Hogwarts is starting soon,' Ginny mumbled into Harry's shoulder, her faced pressed tightly into his shirt.

'I know,' he said. They'd seen each other every day since the final battle. Sometimes for barely a few minutes as Harry stumbled home from the trials, his face drawn and shadowed—barely enough time for a quick kiss and a cuddle. However, most days they spent hours together—playing quidditch, doing chores, chess, snap, cooking, whatever possible. _Oh, and of course_ , Harry thought, pulling Ginny closer to him, trying to meld her soft curves to his side, _sneaking away at every bloody opportunity_. He didn't think he'd ever been this happy. Perhaps the happiest moments were when Ginny was able to sneak into his bed. It wasn't because of the sex because truthfully, that happened everywhere. It was because she held him and listened as he spilled the stupidity of the Ministry, the cruelty of the Death Eaters, the sorrow of the loved ones who were left behind. It was because she tangled her dreadfully cold feet up with his in an effort to get them as close as possible, until they were only one person. It was because, with her soft breath in his ear, her wild hair splayed across his chest, her arms wrapped around him, he was able to sleep more peacefully than he could ever remember. He knew he was in love. When he woke up with her bright brown eyes peering into his and that wicked smile on her face, all he knew was that he wanted to wake up like that every bloody morning.

And now, she was going back to Hogwarts. He'd be at a loose end and once again, he felt himself wondering about going back to Hogwarts. Ginny snuggled into him further, letting out a soft sigh which sent a jolt of heat pulsing straight through Harry. _No, it wouldn't work_ , he thought ruefully. The only reason he had to go back to Hogwarts was Ginny. While that sounded like a good idea, she was in her N.E.W.T. year. She needed the time to study and to practice for Quidditch. If all Harry wanted to do was snog, she wouldn't be getting much done at all. Or she would, but he would be miserable and less persuasive than he thought.

'We're not going to get to be together for nearly two months,' she murmured, one pale, freckled hand dancing over his chest. Harry drew in a sharp breath before her words hit him. He sat up jerkily, dislodging her from his side.

'Two months?' Harry said, beginning to panic a little.

'Yes Harry?' Ginny said, biting her lip. 'The first Hogsmeade trip remember?'

Harry felt his insides roil uncomfortably, looking at her with a stricken expression. 'You don't…'

'What?' she asked concernedly, reaching out for him.

Harry jerked back a little, running a hand through his hair. 'You don't want me to come see you?' While Harry knew she'd be busy, he'd thought they could find some time at least once a week. Okay, he was thinking closer to three.

'What?' she said, startled. 'Of course I do! What are you bloody talking about?'

'Well, I mean… I-uh' Harry stuttered.

'Oh, just spit it out Harry,' Ginny said, her eyes crinkling in amusement.

Harry took a deep breath, chuckling a little at himself. He let it out. 'I thought I might be able to sneak in a few times… a week,' he added sheepishly.

'You…' Ginny said as it dawned on her, an excited smile spreading over her face which came tumbling down only a second later. 'But how? The room of requirement's secret passage is gone. All the others were blocked last year.'

'Well,' Harry started a little ruefully. 'They forgot about one – the Shrieking Shack to the Whomping Willow. I figured one of us could sneak through to get to the other.' Harry began to crawl over to the smiling Ginny. 'What do you say Gin?'

She laughed, the delicious sound crawling all over Harry's spine. 'Since when are you so sneaky?'

'Oi,' he said, laughing with her, shuffling closer until their faces were only inches apart. 'I'm plenty sneaky. I've just got your big oaf of a brother tramping everywhere I'm going.'

'That explains it then,' she said, biting her lip again, her eyes shining brightly at him. Harry felt his chest tighten. It was a wonder he hadn't pulled a muscle with the workout his chest had gotten this summer.

'You're pretty sneaky,' he breathed, watching her shiver as his warm breath hit her face, heating her cheeks.

'I am,' she whispered, closing the gap, her lips brushing against his. 'Guess that's why we're such a good team.'


End file.
